Limits
by gypsy season
Summary: Wicked Fanfic (the book): Elphaba would never let Fiyero touch her below the waist. Why? Even Yero, her hero, has limits.


Disclaimer: None of this is mine. It all belongs to the genius that is Gregory Maguire.

Limits

There was an odd shadow near her groin - for a sleepy moment Fiyero wondered if some of his blue diamonds had, in the heat of sex, been steamed onto her own skin - or was it a scar?

-Wicked, page 197

His tongue slipped through Elphaba's lips like a serpent, seeking it's prey inside her mouth. His icy breath felt warm enough to melt any icicle or snow bank. She would have shivered at such thoughts of water and melting, but Fiyero's body, brown skin and blue diamonds, poised above hers supplied enough warmth to last over a hundred years of winter.

Elphaba wrapped her arms around his back, and though her green fingers were burned by Fiyero's sweat, she clung to him still. Her extreme pleasure greatly overshadowed such a diminutive pain. She arched her back and pulled him closer, pulled him inside her. Their hips moved as one, kisses hot on each other's lips.

They were both glistening with sweat now, hurting the green woman's skin. But the pain wasn't enough to stop, neither of them wanted to stop. Small clouds of condensation formed before their mouths after every heavy exhale, and Fiyero began tracing a line of kisses down Elphaba's neck, over a breast, one hand untangling itself from her long hair.

It followed his dark lips, moving across her chest, pausing for an extra heartbeat where he knew she would like it, before sliding down even further. Across her stomach, towards her hips,

and Elphaba jerked to the side, emerald hands removing themselves from his back to reposition his own just a little higher. But the magic was no longer there, and Fiyero came out and lay down beside her. Already their sweat was cooling on their bodies, making Elphie wince and shift uncomfortably in her lover's arms.

Fiyero rose and returned with a towel. Strong hands began wiping her green body dry, working fast enough to ease Elphaba's pain, and slow enough to feel good. When the towel came down across her stomach, he felt her muscles tighten before her hands came up, stopping him. She took the towel and did the rest herself.

"You only let my eyes go past here, Fae." Fiyero said later, as he lay beside Elphaba, their legs entwined. With his index finger, he drew an invisible line across her stomach, the place where she always made him stop. Forbidden fruits. He removed his hand and placed a kiss on her skin in its place. "You always stop me."

Elphaba turned away, one hand modestly pulled the blanket over her body. "Why?" Fiyero asked her, and she shook her head. What was there to say? He knew she wasn't a virgin; he also knew she wasn't one to spill her entire life story to an old college friend whom she'd been making love to for the past few weeks.

Getting her to give information was tedious to Fiyero, but it was always worth it. Elphaba was so mysterious, always keeping to herself and letting no one find anything out about her. Had she not been so easily recognizable, being green, he might not have even noticed her in the chapel that day.

When his lover didn't answer, he wrapped an arm around her nearly skeletal form and pulled her closer. The air around them was cold, but Fiyero had doubts that the weather was the reason why Elphaba shivered so harshly against him then. She curled up in the contours of his body and lay still until he thought her asleep. Instead, she was only half awake, drifting in and out of memories dug up from her most recent sexual experience with Yero, her hero.

When she first arrived in Emerald City as a citizen, after leaving Glinda and every other aspect of her life behind, Elphaba had no money to speak of. She wandered the streets, curling up in dark, hard to find corners to nap for a few hours during the afternoon. She lived off scraps of whatever she could find or steal while in an endless search for somewhere to stay.

Her disbelief in religion kept her far away from the chapels, and her fear of being recognized kept her far away from anywhere that appeared to house highly social, ridiculously wealthy members of Oz's upper class. One alley led to another until she found a man willing to give her a secluded, decently spacious loft in an unknown part of the city.

But she had no money, she protested. He had told her, consider yourself employed.

He gave her the room without pay, without a fuss, and every night he would come knocking on the door. Elphaba would always let him in, and he would fuck her until he got tired. She would get so fierce and enraged at first, but she needed somewhere to stay; for the time being, there was no other way.

He was rough with her, never stopping to give her a break, never ceasing until his fire was all but a hint of an ember. Sometimes she would bleed, or bruise, and one particularly rough night he had gone so deep he tore flesh.

When Elphaba found a job working behind the curtain of one of the city's most dangerous terrorist groups, she had asked for pay in advance. She looked so misfortunate that her pleas were not refused.

The next night when he came in, he pinned her to the wall and began stripping her down; she shoved a few notes into his hand and told him to fuck off. He'd beaten her for that, much more then once, and a spot on her wall was stained with her blood, but as long as she gave him the money, he never came around for anything more then that.

Back with Fiyero, now, and he didn't hurt her. He was soft and gentle and fiercely passionate at the same time, but she would never let him touch her, not just yet. As long as they had each other now, there was no need. Each time his brown hands advanced further down on her body, they would twist and Elphaba would feel them as the cold, calloused hands of her landlord. She couldn't feel that again, ever.

She would rather tear herself apart from the inside out until nothing was left of her hideous green curse of a body, but she thought of Fiyero. He was her hero, but even some heroes had limits; No matter how much she loved him, Elphaba saw them through to the end.

Shivering against the cold night air, she pressed herself even closer to Fiyero's body. She could feel his heartbeat against her shoulder, his light snores caressing her cheek. Snow was falling on the skylight above.


End file.
